


Working Holiday

by hippocrates460



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Ardent sex on a rooftop, It's not sunday but we need it, M/M, Soft Smut Sunday, The antidote to angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-26 21:50:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15010172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hippocrates460/pseuds/hippocrates460
Summary: Marrying the British government requires clearance, but once that comes through, you can go almost anywhere. Even on work trips with the aforementioned.





	Working Holiday

The fancy hotel they’re staying at has a pool. As well as a spa. But Greg, the fiend, insists on going to the beach instead.

“It’s only 20 minutes by tram according to Bram!”

“Who is Bram?”

“Oh, he works at reception. His dad’s a cop here. He told me about the best places to go.”

Mycroft can only smile and nod. If he didn’t have the conference to attend he’d try to convince Greg to stay close or go somewhere he wants to be too. Instead he’ll be listening to boring talks and sit in on dreadful meetings while his husband spends another day sending him pictures of all the lovely things he’s doing. Yesterday he’d gone to see the Girl with a Pearl Earring. Exceedingly rude.

They’re still wrapped up in bed together, it’s only six in the morning. There is something about being in a new city together that Mycroft loves. He started taking Greg along the second he could and Greg doesn’t mind at all spending some of his holidays at the poshest hotels they can find.

“Mycroft...”

It’s a dangerous tone, that one. Mycroft answers anyway. “Yes, dear?”

“I noticed something when we got here yesterday.”

“Did you? What did you notice?”

“The bathtub.” Greg sits up a little and grins.

Mycroft hums as if he’s considering the offer. “I noticed something else. We have a private rooftop terrace with this room.”

Greg looks at him and he looks back, lifts an eyebrow in challenge. When Greg realizes he’s serious, his eyes open wide and all he can do is nod. Mycroft gathers the duvet up and leaves without looking back. He hears Greg grumble about being cold and naked, but just keeps walking. Not his fault that he’s the only one that cares to sleep in pyjamas.

Up on the rooftop they have a large sofa-like contraption with squishy pillows and he sinks down on it gratefully. Despite the early hour, the sun is up.

“Summer in the north eh,” Greg comments while stretching and looking at the view. “So bright already.” He’s put on a bathrobe for the occasion and Mycroft huddles the duvet all around himself. Greg takes a picture of the view with his phone before joining Mycroft. They snuggle together.

“So, when you saw this,” he kisses Mycroft fondly as he says it. “What were you imagining?”

Mycroft lets his head loll to the side to give Greg better access to his neck. “Under the duvet, for modesty. I’d like to take care of you, if you’re amenable.”

Greg hums and keeps kissing as he opens his own robe and shoves it aside, then starts on Mycroft’s pyjamas. “Did you want to be on top?”

Mycroft shakes his head, then pulls Greg into his lap after wriggling off his pyjama trousers. They kiss as they roll their hips together, lazy and slow.

“What else, love, tell me what else,” Greg urges, letting his head hang onto Mycroft’s shoulder.

“Want to fuck you,” Mycroft groans, scratching Greg’s back, “just, slow and deep, and under the duvet.”

Greg arches his back and kisses back. “Want to keep me safe, do you?” Greg uncaps the lube and pours some onto Mycroft’s hand while kissing up and down his neck. Mycroft’s hips start moving of their own accord and Mycroft lets out an unholy noise when his cock slides over Greg’s stomach.

“Feel so good,” he moans into Greg’s mouth, kissing him sweetly as they move together. “You feel so good.”

“So do you, love,” Greg kisses Mycroft’s cheeks fondly, then moves his hips urgently. “Get in me.”

Laughing softly at his husband’s impatience, Mycroft lets his fingers slide all the way down Greg’s back. “More lube I should think.”

Greg helps him, then leans against Mycroft, relaxing into his hold under the warm duvet. The air is cold but their faces are getting hotter and the duvet is warm.

“Love you,” Greg mumbles as he sits up a little to guide Mycroft into him when he’s ready.

Mycroft tries to focus on keeping his hips still, shifting to hold Greg as close as he can. “And I you,” he sighs. So hot.

Slow rolling movements speed up until Mycroft sets his feet down to get more purchase. He holds the duvet up with one hand.

“Oh,” Greg sighs, “that is...”

Mycroft slides his other hand across Greg’s forehead, pushing his hair further back, “close?”

Greg nods and takes himself in hand and whispers, “close now, almost, Mycroft. Mycroft.”

Afterwards the duvet is almost too warm on their sweaty skin. They need a shower. Mycroft needs to put on his suit and his professional face. Greg needs to send tempting pictures of himself swimming in the North Sea.

Soon.

**Author's Note:**

> In case you're interested - they're in the Hague.


End file.
